To See The Pain
by AwesomeBitsAndBobs
Summary: Italy is kidnapped and tortured. Will anybody come and save him? (Main pairing is Gerita, background is Spamano, Italy and Romano are the main characters.)
1. Chapter 1

What had Italy done to deserve this? He was just walking home from one of the shops in the city, when he was grabbed from behind and knocked out. It wasn't even dark outside; it was the middle of the afternoon. But now Italy was locked in a room so dark that he couldn't even see his hand right in front of his face. Italy had been stripped of his clothes and he felt incredibly vulnerable. It was cold as well, and his arms where rippled with goosebumps.

Now let's get this straight. Italy is not weak, in fact, he could fight pretty well if he wanted to. He just didn't see the point of doing this in a war. Italy was not alone with his thoughts for long, though. Soon, two large men burst into the room and one of them dragged him out by his hair. Pain spiked across his scalp and Italy cried out. After being dragged like this through a few featureless corridors, he was flung onto a harsh metal table and he was bound, leather restraints digging deep into his skin.

A man, whose face Italy would never remember, walked into the room, and Italy presumed he was some sort of doctor. The doctor never talked to Italy directly, in fact, he was talking to a camera instead, and whenever he did reference Italy, he referred to him as 'it' or 'the subject'. He glanced over at an area near Italy's feet occasionally and Italy remembered seeing a table with an assortment of painfully sharp knives there when he was dragged past. Italy flinched, realising just what a doctor could do with all those items.

He was brought out of his thoughts, when a sharp pain pricked his arm and he felt his whole body going limp. Not numb, but limp. Now Italy wasn't just scared, he was terrified. He could blink, he could breathe, but that was about it. First came the clamps. They forced his eyes open and then clamped them back, sparks of pain shooting across his face.

They used a small scalpel first, delicately slicing a circle around the lens and then removing it. Fluid was leaking from the eyes and Italy's vision was blanking in and out, coloured flashes frequenting his limited vision and the room was constantly flipping and changing direction. Everything blurred into an assortment of coloured smudges. The pain was immense and Italy almost wished that he could pass out, but every time he felt even close, another doctor jabbed another needle into his arm, probably with adrenaline.

Once the lens was out, the doctor changed blades, and this time it was curved. It made Italy feel even more sick to his stomach and pain was just sparking from everywhere. He could feel what was probably other doctors working on his body, but he couldn't even look and see what was happening, all Italy could feel was pain. Pain, pain and more pain. Tracing spirals down on his legs, jagged lines on his arms, and deep, angry letters across his chest, but most prominently, the pain that was throbbing and thumping a beat across his head in time with his heartbeat.

This knife was curving behind his eye, severing the nerves and connections in bursts of fire, and once it had curved all the way round his eye, the doctor lifted the knife up and the eye was squeezed out the socket with a sickening pop. Italy did vomit then, retching over and over, bile burning his mouth and throat. He couldn't move though, and it was still in his mouth. Italy was panicking and started to hyperventilate, only retching more as he inhaled the bile and it burned his oesophagus and his lungs.

No amount of adrenaline could stop Italy now then, but the only way he could tell the difference between being awake and unconscious was when the agonizing pain slowly pain to a hum in the background and his mind finally drifted away.

Eventually, Italy awoke to rough, crude bandages covering his body and face. Most seemed to be damp, and every time Italy even breathed, pain sent spasms across his body. A sudden feeling of completely loneliness began to suffocate him.

"Germany? Fratello? I'm sorry. I'm not strong, I'm weak and I'm useless, but I'll do anything if you come and save me. Please. I'm Sorry" And with that, Italy broke down, sobbing, waiting for tears to come and soak into the bandages. Tears that didn't come.

"Please…"


	2. Chapter 2

Romano woke up. Somebody was screaming. Loud, piercing, it was making his ears ring. It took a couple of minutes for him to realise that it was him. A wet choking noise came from his throat and the scream abruptly stopped for him to vomit over the side of the bed. The door slammed open and a frightened Spain ran in.

"Romano? Romano? Are you alright? Romano? Can you hear me?" Spain was almost yelling by the end, but all Romano could see was the blood and he could still hear his brother's screams. He sat there, shivering for what felt like hours until everything snapped into focus.

"Hey Spain?" Romano asked, his voice sounding pathetic even to him "Could you get me a towel from the bathroom?"

"Sure Romano! Of course!" Spain was practically sprinting towards the bathroom and as soon as Spain went it, Romano darted towards the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. The door almost immediately started to thump and shake. "Romano? What's going on? Let me out? What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry Spain, I have to do this." Romano said as he shoved on some random clothes and rushed out of the house, grabbing his phone on the way. Jumping into his car he sped to the airport, yelling at officials over the phone, in an attempt to get his private plane ready for him to arrive so he could fly to Rome. Even if Veneziano wasn't in danger, Romano needed to see him with his own eyes to make sure. In this moment in time, Romano wanted nothing more than to just hold him and remind himself that Veneziano wouldn't leave him.

He'd just managed to persuade all the prissy officials that it was an emergency when his phone rang with another call. It was Germany.

"Pronto?"

"Romano? Your brother asked me to meet him earlier, but my flight was delayed and he didn't answer my calls. I just got to his house in Rome and he isn't here. Do you know where he is?" Germany asked.

"Listen Potato Bastard. I think my fratellino is in big trouble. I'll be in Rome in just over an hour and I'll meet you there. The spare key is inside a fake rock on the door step. I'm loathe to say this, but I need your help." Romano hung up before Germany could reply.

Romano was in the airport as soon as possible and spent his hour on the plane researching every possible anti-nation group. Very few existed that were serious and they were all carefully monitored. When he narrowed down a list he saved it and began to check some of the security cameras in Rome, like those in his brother's favourite shop. It was unlikely Vene had been randomly kidnapped, especially from what he saw in his dream, although Vene was against war, he could defend himself incredibly well.

Then Romano found it. It was about mid-afternoon, and Veneziano was walking down a quiet street when he was ambushed and smashed over the head with the butt of a knife. Chills went down Romano's spine as his brother crumpled to the ground and was dragged towards the side of the road, and, when a van pulled up, chucked inside. Romano then began to follow the van, switching cameras rapidly until the van pulled into a garage for a nice-looking house in the suburbs of the city.

Thank God for all the security cameras on the small shop next-door. Romano once again saved all the useful video he found. He mentally checked the inventory of weapons in the house, four Berettas, at least two sets of throwing knives and there was probably a box of hand grenades in the basement somewhere. He tried to plan more, but exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a fitful sleep.

 _Romano was in a dark room, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face, the only feature he could make out was a lump close to the far wall. He thought it was just a piece of furniture, until it moved, and a small moan came from it. Romano was instantly at the other side of the room. Without being able to see, he could tell, it was- "Vene? Is that you?" Romano asked, his voice low._

" _Fratello? Don't leave me again. I just want to go to sleep." A voice fractured with fear and pain spoke._

" _I'm sorry Vene, but I've got to wake up soon. I promise I'll come rescue you though. For now, sleep, you're safe for now." Romano wrapped his arms around Veneziano, and listened as his loud, heavy breathing slowed and became more natural. Romano felt lulled by the sound, and slowly, his eyes began to close….._


	3. Chapter 3

When Italy woke up again, Romano was gone. It was all cold concrete and the loud echoes of his own clumsy movements that made his head spin. Apart from that, it was his own breathing, his own heartbeat and the silence itself that stabbed at his oversensitive ears, made so by the lack of vision and the noises of day-to-day life. Italy was alone. His thoughts were pushed into the background by fear. Alone. _Fear._ Those two words were forever hopelessly entwined, in his mind that refused to associate loneliness with anything else. Most of the time he could handle simply being alone, as long as he could reach somebody close to him quickly, like on the phone, however now there is no phone.

There is no way for him to reach anybody, save for through his unreliable connection with Romano. Neither of them quite knew what triggered it, sometimes it was dreams, strong emotions or simply just thinking about the same things. They also didn't know what might happen if they tried to force the connection, just that it might be dangerous, and it was probably going to being disrespectful to the privacy of either both, or one of them. It would be worth it though. It had to be. Anything was worth escaping this suffocating loneliness. Italy closed his eyes and thought about something he'd read in a book. A tunnel, stretching for quite a distance, and at the other end, Italy could faintly see Romano facing away from him.

Italy sighed, and began to imagine that he was walking. It was hard, like walking through treacle. But then there was the pain, the feeling that somebody had squeezed lemon juice into his eyes. It hurt, but Italy kept walking, step after agonizing step, until he reached Romano.

 _Romano? Hey, Romano?_ Italy thought, but when he received no answer, he went to tap Romano's shoulder. _Hey Romano-_ _ **Pain, loneliness that was not his own, hate, hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts. IT HURTS**_

Then it was gone, spreading out from his chest to his fingertips, and then just vanishing. Italy realised with a jolt that he was on the floor, and Romano was looking down at him.

" _Vene?"_ Romano asked, his voice sounding distant and watery, _"Vene? Is that you? What did you do?"_ Romano asked.

" _I'm sorry Roma… I was so alone, I'm so sorry….."_ Italy replied

* * *

Germany was worried. First Italy was missing, then Romano acts really strange and says that Italy is in trouble, and then when Romano finally gets to meet him in Rome he passes out in the living room of the house. Something very strange was going on, something dangerous, and whatever it was, Ludwig knew that he had to do something about it, fast.

He picked Romano up and then placed him down on the sofa, not for any particular reason, and then went into the kitchen to make a drink, he wouldn't be able to do anything until Romano wakes up and tells him what is going on. That was when Romano began to yell:

"Merda! Vene! Vene, just tell them, its not worth it! Just tell them!"

Romano shot up in the seat and looked disoriented for a second before he was back to yelling again.

"Hey, bastard, we're leaving right now! Get your arse in the car!" However, Germany refused to move.

"Why should I? What the hell is happening to Italy?" he asked.

"My fratello is being tortured you bastardo! They want information about us and all the others. Now get in the car before I leave you behind, I need to get him out of that place!" As Germany got in the car, all he could think about was how Romano was trying to persuade Italy to just tell his captors everything. What sort of torture was worth that information?


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING FOR GRAPHIC TORTURE**

* * *

Italy was dragged back out of his conversation with Romano as his head cracked against the cold metal table. He could still hear Romano, and he was starting to yell at him, but his brain couldn't register what he was hearing over a ringing in his ears. His mind felt like it was made of cotton wool, but this feeling was jerked away when a sharp needle pierced his arm and a buzz spread out from the area, settling on his chest, Italy's heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. A voice rang through his ears, harsh and cold:

"Do you know what rat torture is? It's where we place a box with one open side on your chest, there is a rat in the box, the one we have today is quite hungry actually. Then, we heat the top of the box, and you see, since the rat has no where to go it decides to take the easiest route out, through your chest." Italy shuddered, the leather straps cutting into his wrists and ankles.

"Now, here's the deal, if you tell us all about the other countries, we'll leave you alone and you won't experience any of that, however, Mr Rat here is getting quite hungry, you should probably make your decision soon…" The man added. Italy spat at where he had last heard the voice coming from, and heard a satisfying spluttering.

"I won't betray them. I won't tell you anything. There are secrets worth dying for." Italy said, venom lacing his voice. The man chuckled.

"We'll soon see." He said. A box was strapped to Italy's chest, and then the bottom slid out so Italy could feel the claws and feet of the rat against his chest. "We are serious about this. This is your last chance to tell us before it gets painful." Italy did not speak, however, a soft noise came out of his mouth and the man leaned closer to try and figure out what it was. Then, he realised that Italy was singing.

 _Una mattina mi son svegliato_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _Una mattina mi son svegliato_ _  
_ _Eo ho trovato l'invasor_ _._

It started off quietly, but gradually got louder, and as it did, Italy began to feel a gentle heat where the box was. However, this quickly increased to be burning hot, and the rat's claws and teeth were raking across his chest.

 _O partigiano porta mi via_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _O partigiano porta mi via_ _  
_ _Che mi sento di morir._

Italy could hear Romano properly now, at exactly the moment he didn't want to. Romano was screaming and crying, desperate prayers falling from his lips. His strong big brother was yelling at him, telling him to just tell them what they wanted. Italy forced, and the connection snapped back suddenly, leaving Italy alone in his head again.

 _E se io muoio da partigiano_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _E se io muoio da partigiano_ _  
_ _Tu mi devi seppellir._

The burning feeling came from the claws and teeth now, carving out the skin from his chest, small chunks of flesh being ripped off by the hungry mammal. Every breath he took was a desperate gasp for air, and he struggled to keep singing, but it was the only thing that kept him from crying.

 _Mi seppellire lassù in montagna_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _Mi seppellire lassù in montagna_ _  
_ _Sotto l'ombra di un bel fiore._

He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't betray them. He couldn't! There was blood splattering out of his chest now, into the box, the frantic scrabbles of the rat causing excruciating pain, Italy threw his heart into the words he sang, his last show of resistance and the only thing that kept him from screaming out.

 _E le genti che passeranno_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _E le genti che passeranno_ _  
_ _Mi diranno: "Che bel fior"_

Italy was spitting the words out, wishing that they could knock away the tortuous box on his chest, that he would be freed from the pain. He could…. He could give in….. He couldn't! Italy refused to do that, to be so weak. To give up his dignity in that way, to give up his friend's lives. It was unthinkable! He had to keep singing. Italy had to!

 _È questo il fiore del partigiano_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _È questo il fiore del partigiano_ _  
_ _Morto per la libertà_

Keep singing!

 _È questo il fiore del partigiano_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao_ _  
_ _È questo il fiore del partigiano_ _  
_ _Morto per la libertà_

Italy began to lose his train of thought, drifting away from the song into nothingness.

 _È questo il fiore del partigiano_ _  
_ _O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ….._ _  
_


	5. Teaser Chapter

I'm really sorry guys, I had the next update half written (and it was going to be a long one) when my laptop decided to restart and just delete it all. I'll hopefully have it rewritten in the next few days, but for now, a sneak peek:

The connection just snapped back with a stabbing pain.

"Repeat it after me."

"I'm a monster."

Everything he said was true.

All that was left was a smear of dried blood.

"Every time you get something wrong, it'll just get worse and worse."

"Something is very wrong."


	6. Chapter 5

**Although at first I was annoyed that this chapter got deleted, I'm quite pleased I got the chance to rewrite it. I realised that I completely forgot about Italy's wound from the previous chapter, and although I know nations heal quicker than humans, they don't heal in seconds either in my mind. Also, it's really hard to remember that Italy is blind in this fic. I keep trying to add where he sees things and realise that he can't see anything!**

 **IMPORTANT! I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA READER TO TRY AND PREVENT THAT SORT OF STUFF HAPPENING. PM IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!**

 **###**

Why does this always happen to him? Italy knew he shouldn't have severed the connection between himself and Romano, but if he hadn't then he would have given in and told them everything. Waking up, Italy had tried the connection with Romano, but the connection just snapped back with a stabbing pain. It spread out from the wound on his chest, to the tips of his fingers and then back again. He was even more alone than he was before, and Italy himself had removed his only method of communication.

As his breathing began to quicken, Italy longed to just curl into a ball, and did attempt it, but drew back after feeling the stabbing pains in his chest. Alone. Again. His thoughts began to race and flicker through his mind, not being able to focus on any one single thing. Except that word. It was a word Italy had always associated with fear, and this experience certainly wasn't helping. It just made him even more scared than before, too scared what was happening. Italy realised with some detachment that he was shaking violently.

Italy could hear echoing footsteps, but not any that recognised. Not Germany's quiet and fast footsteps, or Romano's almost running pace, but loud, slow footsteps that sent shivers down Italy's spine and disrupted any clarity his thoughts were beginning to gain.

"You're alone because everybody hates you. You're a monster. They'd kill you if they could. You're unnatural. Repeat it." A cold, emotionless voice said. It didn't make any sense in Italy's mind, his thoughts flying past. What was happening? Why was he a monster and who was Italy? Nothing was being processed in Italy's brain except for fear. "W-what?" Italy asked, unable to say more than that single word. Until pain spread across his body. It burnt. Pain. Fear. Pain. Fear.

"That's bad. You're a monster and I'm your master. If you disobey me, you will feel unimaginable pain. Now, repeat it! Both things!" The voice screamed at him. "B-but…" Italy didn't even know what he would have said next, but he was cut off as he was burnt again by the shock, a scream torn out of his lips. Whatever was shocking him had been dug right into the wound on his chest. Unconscious connections in Italy's brain began to form. If he disobeyed, then he was hurt. Pain has bad. Italy shouldn't disobey.

"Repeat it." Came the voice once again, and Italy stuttered through the sentences. "I-I'm alone because e-everybody hates me. I'm a monster. They'd k-kill me if they could. I'm unnatural. D-disobeying is bad. I-I'm a monster and you're my m-master. If I disobey you, I will feel unimaginable p-pain." Maybe everything he said was true. Why else would he hurt so much? Why else would Italy need to be punished. He was a monster.

"Adequate. Now, there is one more set of truths about you that you must learn and add to that to repeat me when I come back. You don't deserve to live. You have caused millions of innocent people's deaths. You should be dead. Nobody would miss you." And with that, the voice left, the heavy door banging shut behind him and the click as it locked.

* * *

Romano was scared out of his mind. It showed. His hands were clenched around the steering wheel so hard that they turned white, and if he had to lift one off, to indicate or change gear, his hands shook tremendously. But then Romano's phone rang, and although him answering his phone while already driving hazardously freaked Germany out, he was relieved that it snapped his out of whatever had happened. "Vaffanculo! Ora non è il tempo Spagna! Feli è nella merda." Was what he said and then he hung up. Being the target of some of those words frequently, he gathered: "Fuck off, Spain, Feli and shit."

"Why are you shutting him out?" Germany asked, "He is your boyfriend, isn't he? He could help us retrieve your brother?"

"Listen, bastard! I really don't think you understand how serious the situation is. Mio fratellino has been blinded, tortured and god knows what else. He chose torture rather than betray the secrets of nation personifications. If I know him, he would choose it again in a heartbeat rather than betray us. I want you to completely rethink everything you think you know about mio fratello. He keeps a lot of secrets under a mask." Romano spoke, his voice a strange mix of anger and sadness.

By then, they had arrived at where Feli was being held. Breaking in through a back window, they went guns first, safeties off. It was eerily quiet, until they opened the door to the basement and a scream pierced the quiet. Rushing down the steps, they dived through the narrow doorway. For a second, they paused, shocked by what they saw. A cd player. And what of Feli? All that was left was a smear of dried blood. Germany and Romano both stood in shock. That was enough time for armed men to rush down the steps and knock them both out, but to their credit, they didn't go down without a fight.

* * *

"It is time for you to say your lines." The voice was back. Italy's voice was cracked and he struggled to speak.

"You have caused millions of innocent…." Italy cried out as something burning hot was thrust onto his arm and held there. "No, that was the wrong order." The voice said. "Say it in the right order!" Italy started again. "I don't deserve to live. I have caused millions of innocent people's deaths. I shouldn't be alive..." Italy screamed once again, as the burning was on his leg this time, and held there for longer.

"Every time you get something wrong, it'll just get worse and worse." The voice said. Italy wracked his brain, trying to think of the right words. "I don't deserve to live. I have caused millions of innocent people's deaths. I should be dead. Nobody would miss me." His voice was dull. Something inside him cracked.

As Romano and Germany were frog marched into the building, Feli's nation presence his Romano in the face like a brick. "Something is very wrong…" Romano whispered, before he passed out on the ground.

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 **Thank you to one of my reviewers, Shelly, who has definitely given this story the most flattering review so far. The only bad review I have got so far, I actually found quite funny.** "Wtf this is a sick piece of writing about something that would never ever happen!" **I ended up finishing this in two halves and my motivation was my birthday tomorrow, because I knew I wouldn't find time to finish it for about a week afterwards. Your Author will finally be 14! Thanks for all the faves, follows and reviews, guys!**


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